Quintessence
by SethNightlord
Summary: Trying to teach Riku about true love, Sora learns the heart wrenching truth about love. SoraXRiku


Quintessence

By: SethNightlord

_Quintessence: the pure highly concentrated essence of a thing, the purest or most typical instance._

F. So many things start and end with the letter 'F'; fun, fuck, fresh... failure. I'll take that last one please with a heaping side of broken dreams.

Emo-tastic.

Normally, I'm a pretty happy person, _normally_, I get straight A's, normally; I'd _never_ confront a teacher about one of my grades. But today isn't normal, today _I_ am a failure. Me! Ridiculous. So, it's only understandable that I'm upset, I mean I worked on this thesis for months! And Professor Thompson claims I 'misunderstand' the novel! Is he kidding me? The novel-- not just any novel mind you, the novel of my favorite author, is a book I relate to so much--I live my life by it.

I mean the story pure and simple is a love story but there is so much more to it, underneath you can hear the jaded voice of the author and you wonder to yourself, what's the ending going to be like? Because for a little while, when you're reading, you're worried that this story just might not be the happy ending you're looking for. This might just be another lost chance, another minute slipping out of your grip where you miss the One. Maybe this ending will literally be the story of your life—just another missed chance. Oh yeah, intense. And that's what I love about this author and specifically this book. Yes in the end true love wins out and all that shit, but for a minute you think to yourself, holy crap it's real. There's such a thing as true love. But I digress.

How can one 'misunderstand' a thesis on a novel that was meant to be about someone's opinion on said novel? Opinion, being the key word here-- so how could my opinion have been fucking wrong? I wondered the same thing and I=m paying for it now.

Thompson sent me on a 'quest'. Yeah, I know it's like I'm fucking Harry Potter or something. He told me to take up my argument with the author and if the author agrees with my opinion, he'll give me an 'A'.

Ok, not tough right? Write a letter, send an email or make a few phone calls--no. The author of this book happens to be Riku. Just Riku--no last name, no author's bio, no nothing--the most illusive, secretive celebrity on the planet. Girls everywhere are searching for the person who writes love stories sweet enough to make your teeth ache. The man is a god. No one knows about Riku, Riku is a living mystery, a walking enigma. Every so often a new book comes out, but not even Riku's publisher will talk about Riku.

So there I was; riding a small motor boat across the lake to get to Cherry Island, the only clue Professor Thompson gave me on how to find Riku. Don't ask me how Professor Thompson knew anything about the whereabouts of _the _Riku. Thompsons a weird guy, I'll admit it so it's best in this case not to question. It was miserably cold and there was a perpetual mist, helping only to dampen my mood further. Almost everything was hidden behind the heavy fog and I couldn't see beyond the light emitted from my feeble lantern. Every so often the light from the lighthouse glances upon my boat and I wonder if anyone can even see me. If I die out here, will anyone find me? Will anyone care? I try to squeeze further back into my wind breaker, hoping that maybe the warmth will somehow make the situation seem better. But it doesn't and I'm still stuck in a boat in the middle of nowhere, freezing cold and miserable.

It really couldn't get any worse.

The engine sputtered, gave one last sad wheeze and died.

I contemplated curling up into the fetal position and rocking back and forth on my heels, until some poor soul finds me. But something rose up in the mist in front of me, like a giant looming overhead. The tide gently carried me closer and closer to a rocky shore that looked so bleak and desolate that I couldn't really see how any living thing could survive there. Dead grass lined the dunes near a shear cliff, the sand hid small shards of dagger-like shells, broken beyond repair.

I managed to guide the small boat past a destroyed dock and jumped out into the frigid water, to walk my pitiful boat to the shore. There was no way I was going to be able to tie my boat up to that monstrosity, the dock and the boat would float away. I was instantly soaked and freezing, it was a bitterly cold day and what I could see of the sky promised me more misery. I pulled the boat far enough up on the rocky shore that I didn't have to worry about the tide pulling it away. I covered it with a dark blue tarp that I weighed down with a few moss-covered rocks. I pulled my cell phone out to check the time and realized it was later than I thought--almost three o'clock.

I looked around me, but nothing pointed me in my next direction. Then something caught my eye, built into the side of the cliff was a decrepit looking wooden staircase. It looked ancient, older even than the dinosaurs. I tried to wrap my windbreaker around me closer, but it was still too cold and the wind bit right through my windbreaker and the winter jacket underneath. I wished I'd put heavier gloves on and maybe grabbed a scarf and a hat, but there was no going back now—I needed that 'A'.

The stair case loomed before me like an ancient monolith of enormous power. It's rickety broken staircase seemed to resemble more the gaping maw of a deadly beast than rotted wood. Dead sea-grass grew in and around the cracks in the wood that were more numerous than stars in the sky. I walked up to the stairs tentatively, my sneakers crunching on the broken seashells. The wood let out a groan when I tried to place my weight on the first step, but it held and I realized if a recluse lived on the island they had to use this staircase to get to the only dock on the island. I let that small hope live in my mind until some part of my psyche shot it down by reminding myself that the dock was destroyed and a recluse would have no need of a dock anyway. Somehow the stairs held and I climbed my way up to the top of the cliff, weary and on edge; knowing each step could potentially be my last, if I fell from this height… well no one would be able to put Sora back together again.

At the top of the steps was an ancient cherry tree, long out of bloom; in fact I wasn't too sure if it ever bloomed at all. Its trunk was too thick for me to even wrap my arms around it and bark crumbled off even as a gently touched the trunk. The tree was dying and I was just a bystander. But just beyond the gnarled branches was a beach house. White and two stories tall, it was a strange contrast to the decayed tree and island. It had big bay windows and glass front doors, there was even a swing hanging in an oak tree, a small pond with a fountain, no longer spewing water or anything else. It was beautiful and desolate and I couldn't imagine a human being living in such a horrid place.

I probably would have turned around except for the fact that I was spurred on by the F sitting at home on my desk. And I'll tell you right now, Sora Strife is one determined bastard. I walked up the front steps and noticed the paint was peeling, up close the house looked over a hundred years old easily, and there was a white whicker rocking chair that eerily rocked on its own. Creeper to the max. The wooden porch groaned as I walked across it, the planks were warped by the salt in the air. I flipped my hood down and smoothed my messy brown hair out around me. The wind whipped my hair around but it was the best I could do. But you know what… no… I have no excuse; my hair is a holy terror to manage.

I knocked hesitantly on the door.

No one answered.

So I knocked again.

Still... nothing.

Oh well so sad, guess I'll come back tomorrow…maybe if it wasn't for the fact that I was stranded here because my boat's a piece of crap! I tried the doorknob and guess what? Unlocked. I don't care if breaking and entering is a crime, me getting an F is a crime! I walked in and closed the door behind me.

"Hello?" I called out. No answer, very quickly I was starting to realize how much like a horror movie this was turning out to be, and a very cheesy one at that.

I searched through the house but there was no one to be found, it was quite obviously lived in though, there were books dog-eared everywhere, CDs and notes strewn around and a laptop sitting on a marble counter. The laptop was on and open to a Word document. I leaned closer to look. The computer hadn't been left too long ago, the screen saver hadn=t yet turned on and there was a half-drunken mug of tea-- still steaming, next to it. On the Word document was the start of a story.

It had no title; there was no chapter number, just half a paragraph of text in the middle of the page. I could recognized the tone of the writing anywhere though, it was Riku—that jaded, snide tone belonging to soul who truly believed in love. This paragraph was without a doubt written by Riku. It didn't say too much, all it did was describe a flowering cherry tree. It might have been the tree in the front yard, it might not have been. But it made my heart soar, it was beautiful and romantic. My heart hurt from reading it.

"What are you doing?" A deep voice asked quickly.

Shocked, I whirled around and lifted a hand to my throat. "I'm sor--." I stopped halfway through. This couldn't be Riku He was tall and thin like a greyhound and had silver hair hanging in his eyes---eyes that glared hatefully at me. Beautiful sea-green eyes, a color I'd only ever seen the ocean wear. I was breathless.

He took a step towards me and I was trapped in front of the counter.

"How did you find me?" He asked.

And than I realized it was him. It was Riku. Somehow I knew it was him, it was the voice…I was sure of it. It's the voice I always hear when I'm reading. But he was nothing like a imagined him, the cruel sneer on his face, lips twisted in distaste and eyes full of nothing but misery and sorrow. This broken soul was no the Riku I had imagined. Deep down something in side me broke and fluttered down in small pieces. Maybe it was my innocence.

"Mr. R-Riku. I'm so sorry. Professor Thompson sent me. About my essay. He gave me an F but I didn't think it was fair so he told me to tell you and ask you what your ... story...was... about..." Too late I realized I was rambling and shut my mouth before he decided to hurt me or something.

He looked like he was about to rip my head off but he stopped. "Axel Thompson?" He asked, his eyes were still cold and distant but his expression had changed, he was no longer angry.

"Umm... sure." I nodded I had no idea what my Professor's first name was, but how many Professor's have the last name Thompson?

"So you're the student with the essay?"

"Um... yes! Please, have you read my essay? Did Professor Thompson explain the situation to you?" My hopes soared for a moment. Maybe my dreams had been crushed when I found out this man was my Riku, but it looked like I could still get out of this as a winner.

"No and yes."

"Wait... what? Oh no..." I sighed. "Well I brought a copy of my essay... well it's not really an essay more of a thesis..."

"I'm not reading it."

My heart dropped past my stomach and landed somewhere in my intestines. It didn't seem like he was open for debate and the finality of his statement led me to believe that he had no intention of ever reading my essay.

"But you have to read it. Please, I spent so much time and effort on it! You're my favorite author and I wrote about my favorite book of yours. Please, I'm such a fan and I can't have an F. I just can't." I was almost near tears as I pleaded with the unrelenting figure before me. I was wrong before, there was no way I was coming out of this a winner or even alive. I'd be damned if I left this house without my A.

He reached around me and grabbed his mug and I stiffened, afraid he was about to grab me. He noticed my reaction and lifted an eyebrow at me and I almost forgot my fear when I realized how good looking he was. He sat himself down at one of the kitchen chairs; he took a sip of tea and placed the mug on a stack of papers--probably a manuscript of some kind.

"What makes you think I'd read your mediocre essay when I don't even read my own book reviews in _The New York Times_?" He was cruel and heartless; each word held a thousand CCs of venom ready to be shot through my veins by a wicked needle.

For a second I was speechless but no one could care so little about books written so beautifully. Around the globe, avid readers swooned over every line he wrote and he dismissed his writings with a sneer.

"Get out of my house before I have you arrested."

My eyes welled up and I felt like my heart was breaking. "No."

His eyebrows shot up in surprised and he frowned.

"I won't leave until you read my essay."

"I don't care what you wrote about my books, it'll be garbage just like my own stories. Fantastical nonsense of things that are impossible. Why waste my time with nonsense?"

"No!" I yelled out. "Your books aren't garbage and you know it. No one could write stories about true love like that and not believe in it themselves. You're just a liar."

"Get out." He said to me but I refused to leave until he forcibly pushed me through the front door and the lock clicked behind me with a deafening thud. It was like the last nail in my coffin.

"I won't leave." I called through the door and settled myself in the wicker rocking chair for a long wait.

I waited for hours and it started to get dark, a glance at the sky told me that it was too late to go back to shore even if my boat hadn't been trashed. I let out a sigh that caught in my throat like a sob when the first snowflake came down. There was no where I could go even if I wanted to. For better or worse, I was stuck here on this porch in the snow. I couldn't even call for help because my cell phone died sometime during my surprise visit. The snow started to come down heavier and I wondered if I would be stuck here for the rest of my winter break when the door opened.

"You're crazy." He said.

"I can't think of a better place to be right now." I replied with a joke, my breath appearing before me.

"Well I can't leave you out here or I'll probably get arrested for child neglect." He scoffed.

I stood up quickly and followed him in, my body too numb to care that I was probably not too smart for going back into his house. "I'm not a kid, I'm in college. I am an adult."

"You're more like Rosa Parks having a sit-in."

I pouted and we spent the rest of the night talking about everything under the sun except his books and my essay.

I returned almost everyday for two years until I got to the point where I couldn=t even remember why I was there. I'd let my failing grade go a long time ago. But in the back of my head, I knew why I returned. I was here to make an author believe in the love he wrote of.

He weaved worlds so fantastic sometimes I wished I would never have to put his books down. What I wouldn't give to be a part of one of his stories.

In fact, in the two years I'd been visiting, he'd never released a new book but I'd seen him typing away on his laptop. I never asked to see his work. We never talked about his stories.

We bonded in other ways and though I had no contact with him outside my visits to his island, I knew he'd become my best friend. We talked for hours when I came to visit him; I brought him gifts, little things like books and food I thought he would like. Occasionally I would bring him random things I found pretty. I hoped the things I found beautiful would allow him to finally notice the beauty around him and in his writings. I was a man on a mission; I wouldn't rest until I was sure Riku new that true love existed, because for a while I thought I had true love. We were best friends.

There were the good times. I figured he had to be so lonely at his home all by himself—he insists that he hates people, yet he puts up with oblivious me so who's in self denial now?—so I brought him someone.

I dumped the puppy into his lap unceremoniously and he started, he'd been so intent on his typing. He almost spit his tea out he was so surprised.

"Sora, what the hell is this?" He raised an eyebrow at me but I could tell that he was laughing underneath his annoyed exterior.

"A dog, silly! D-o-g! Dog." I spelt it out for him like he was the weird one.

"Well obviously Sora! Now, what's it doing in my house is what I'd really like to know. I don't like animals—you're the only exception." He joked.

"Hey…" I pretended to be annoyed and pouted until he came over and put the puppy in my arms.

"I love the puppy, but why?"

"I didn't want you to get lonely." I replied, nuzzling my head into the puppy's fur. It was young and small, so weak and fragile like a bud breaking through snow in the spring time. Riku stood next to me gently petting the puppy's head. It was a Great Dane.

"Why would I be lonely when you never leave me alone?" He laughed, but when I didn't laugh back he became serious. "Sora, what's this about?"

I looked up at him, my eyes shining with some kind of emotion that I couldn't name but he would probably call the unintentional jaded innocence of youth… or something like that. Anything that would make my love seem foolish. "I think my boyfriend might ask me to marry him!" I said. "And if that happens I might not see you for a while…"

As I said it I noticed his mood grow darker and I was confused, but I was used to not understanding Riku's moods. His mind was something foreign even to me; his best and only friend. His change of mood was probably due to his belief at my stupidity for thinking true love existed and that I was getting my share.

He was about to open his mouth and say something but I feared the worst and cut him off with a question. "What are you going to name him?" I asked, gesturing towards the puppy. It was a beautiful creature, not really as fragile as one first thought, but still young and inexperienced all the same, its coat was white with black spots dappling it. It wasn't hard to pick him from a litter, the second his baby blues met mine, it was true love, plain and simple. There was something about his face, the perpetually sad eyes, always downturned, that I knew Riku would love and find beauty in. And I was right.

My favorite time was that day over the summer when we were out on a walk, it was one of the few times Riku opened up and talked about himself. Puma; was young back in those days.

I was shirtless like always, it was always so damn hot around here in the summer, I ditched most of my clothes a while ago, but Riku had left his white tee-shirt and rolled up jeans on. I teased him about being a real-life Mr. Freeze and it was turning out to be a beautiful day anyway you looked at it. I threw a stick and Puma took off after it.

I turned around and caught Riku staring at me. "What's the matter I asked?" I looked down; there was nothing weird on me.

He shook his head and looked away. "Conceited to think I was staring at you?" He supplied instead.

I laughed. "Hard not to look when you have the body of a god." I was clearly joking; I was a skinny little Asian boy with lithe runner's muscle from my years of track. I was darkly tan and it caused my blue eyes to stand out, but all in all, I had the body of a prepubescent teenage girl. It was attractive…

I looked up when he didn't reply to my joking with a sarcastic comment, he was staring at me again. I crossed my arms over my chest. "What do I have food stuck in my teeth or something?" I was starting to feel confused and self-conscious.

He looked up and it was like he was in a dream world. His face held a serene look and he smiled at me so heart-breakingly beautiful that my breath caught and my heart failed to beat. "Nah, just thinking." I nodded, pretending I understood. By this point Puma had returned and was refusing to give up the stick he had brought back with him, as we walked up the stairs back to his house, the cherry tree rose above us.

It cast down cool shade upon us and I could tell that it looked slightly more alive now than it had the first summer I'd been here. My heart strings felt like they were being tugged on and for some strange reason I felt myself starting to cry. At the sound of my sniffles, Riku turned around.

"What's the matter," he asked, sounding concerned.

"It's the tree," I said and he looked confused. "It's alive, I know it."

Riku looked sad, "Sora, that tree hasn't bloomed in thirteen years."

"Maybe, but tell me that when you look at it today, right now, it doesn't seem like maybe… it'll be ok. Like when you look at this tree everything will be ok." I said between sobs.

"Oh Sora." Riku pulled me close to his chest and held me there, I'd never felt so safe before, standing there in the arms of my best friend.

And there were the bad times. He knew me better than I knew myself, so I wasn=t really surprised when he realized I was upset.

He typed away at his laptop, sipping that cup of ever-present coffee. Puma, already five months old, was getting big. Already he was too big for my lap, but still insisted that he fit there. He was a holy terror and had destroyed a good number of Riku's shoes and furniture, but I knew Riku loved him. Puma was the best thing I'd ever done for Riku, giving him a friend for when I wouldn't be there. But still, looking at this perpetually sad looking dog that was always happy, I wasn't happy.

"Sora..." he said in that tone that let me know he was about to go into a fatherly lecture with me, "What's the matter?"

I shrugged my shoulder. "Just stupid stuff, kid stuff." I continued to pet Puma, not looking up, afraid he would sense my contrary mood.

He raised an eyebrow.

"I can't pull one past you can I? He just smiled quietly and nodded for me to go on. "My boyfriend broke up with me."

"Haven't you been going out for three years?" He asked.

"I thought he was going to ask me to marry him." I said in reply and when I looked up into his eyes there was pity and sadness. That was Riku for you, always sad for you but never sad for himself. He'd given up on feeling anything but disgust for himself and his writings.

"My new book should be out soon." He said and just like that he knew how to change my mood and avoid the subject at the same time. But there was something strange in his voice.

And when his new book debuted, I was there at midnight to get it. I read it once over and immediately started to read it again. I forgot about every thing except sleeping and reading, I skipped work and class and my visit to Riku to finish the book. The story was so ridiculously familiar I had to check every page of the book to make sure it was real. I cried. I cried for a long time. The cover, a flowering cherry tree, was stained by my salty tears.

I was so stupid.

Every day was in there, every minute we spent together, it was all recorded in the pages of this book, lovingly typed out by someone true to their heart. He'd written about our walks on the beach, the movie nights, the thunderstorm, even the time I'd gotten him Puma. He'd even mentioned my surprise to find out that Professor Thompson was one of his old friends, though he seldom talked to the man now. The only difference between my life and the book was the ending. Every book has to end, but my own story hadn't yet ended.

Looking at our story from Riku's point of view I was forced to realize something heart wrenching. I was so fucking stupid. My heart clenched as I looked the book over one last time. The title; Quintessence: A True Love Story, the chapter titles were flowers and every chapter was given a letter, in all, it spelt out my name, Sora Strife. It was so obvious. But to be sure I checked the dedication. There was none in the front, but after the last page of text was what I'd been searching for. It said;

_To My Sora,_

_True love is a gossamer thread of beauty_

_But_

_Unrequited love is the worst kind._

-The End –

Author's Note – This was originally written for an English project so it was cut a little short at the end so that my teacher wouldn't hate me for writing ten pages of nonsense. After I told my friend about the story and its plot line, she told me it was one of the most cute love stories she'd ever heard. So I tweaked it a little and posted it up here. A lot of people complained about the spacing of my last story so here, you go a little more flesh and blood in my paragraphs. Hopefully even though this is a short story you can see Riku and Sora's love grow. But more importantly I hope this love story will touch you (and not in inappropriate places) too and you'll be left feeling as strangely empty at the end of this story as I did.

This is a one shot and was meant to be left empty at the end. You are welcome to write your own endings but in my mind there is no ending. The best love stories have no ending.


End file.
